


The Rescue of the Black Knight

by spikesgirl58



Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 15:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon has been taken and it's up to Illya to rescue him...  Written for TamingtheMuse and as a birthday gift.  Warning - thar be puns here....</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rescue of the Black Knight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mayamaia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayamaia/gifts).



“Mi Lady.” Napoleon knelt at the woman’s feet and offered her a sword, his eyes studying her face.  Bennet Godsend smiled at her victory.  Her triumph was now at hand.  She could easily snatch up this sword and decapitate the man kneeling before her. 

“So this was the mighty Napoleon Solo,” she murmured.  “You weren’t such a hard nut to crack.  I wonder if your partner would have put up any more of a fight.”  

Napoleon didn’t answer.  He swayed from side to side as if slightly drunk.  Bennet wasn’t sure if it was a side effect of the drug now polluting Solo’s bloodstream or from his fighting its effect.  She didn’t care.  She had the mighty Napoleon Solo at her feet – a toy for her to manipulate.

She rose, the fabric of her dress falling about her in scarlet cascades.  She walked to the balcony door and looked out.  Beyond the marble and granite banister the hills of her kingdom awaited.

“If I commanded, would you lay down your life for me?”

“As you will.”  Napoleon didn’t move from his previous position.  It was as if he was frozen in time.

“If I commanded, would you lay with me?”

“As you will.”

“If I commanded, would you kill your partner for me?”

“As you will.”

Napoleon’s monotone response began to eat at her nerves and she strode to a table to snatch up a goblet of wine and two small white tablets.  The combination would soon soothe her nerves.  She swallowed the pills and took a deep swallow of wine.  Its sweetness nearly choked her.  She hated mulled wine.

She threw the goblet and it hit the floor inches in front of Napoleon, splattering his suit with red droplets of wine.  The man never flinched, or even reacted in the least. His docility was all well and fine but perhaps she hadn’t thought this through properly.

She stood and walked to Napoleon’s side.  “Get up.”  He stood.  “Kiss me.”  He did, but without passion or any emotion at all.  “This isn’t going to do… not at all.”  She clapped her hands.  “Judith!  Winifred!”  The two women in waiting trotted into the room and she gestured to Napoleon.  “Take it away.  I need to think.”

                                                                                ****

Illya pulled out his communicator.  Part of him pleaded to open a channel and call for Napoleon.  That time was past now.  Whatever had been gone on inside that stone and mortar torture chamber, they had no way of knowing if Napoleon was alive or dead.  Except Illya did know, just as he knew his heart beat and his lungs expanded and contracted.  Napoleon was alive, Illya was certain of it.  His condition, that was a bit dicier.  No one spent time in THRUSH’s loving arms without after effects.

Illya sighed and clicked open his communicator.  “Open Channel F, Overseas relay.”

“Mr. Kuryakin, what is your status?”  That was Waverly - straight to the point.

“I’m in position and about ready to infiltrate the fortress.”  There was a moment of quiet and Illya shook the instrument, afraid that it had been damaged in his rather rough-and-tumble journey here.  “Sir?”

“Godspeed, Mr. Kuryakin.  Bring him back to us.”

Illya nodded, knowing Waverly couldn’t see him.  “I will, sir.  Kuryakin out.” 

He tucked the communicator away and took stock of his arsenal.  A dozen arrows, their tips treated with a powerful sleep drug, awaited him.  If he was a religious man, he would have taken a moment for a silent prayer, but every minute that passed was one more minute Napoleon suffered.

Strapping the quiver to his back, Illya hefted the cross bow and left the safety of his hiding spot. He didn’t like going in without his P-38, but this country didn’t permit guns of any sort.  He had to rely upon an updated version of a more ancient weapon. The game was mostly definitely afoot. 

                                                                                ****

Napoleon felt as if he was crawling out of a very deep, very dark hole.  The passage of time meant nothing to him.  The only thing he fixated upon was not betraying UNCLE.  Well, that and Illya’s arrival.  Napoleon knew his partner had to be on his trail.  That was what partners did.  Whether or not it was with Waverly’s blessing, Napoleon knew Illya would not abandon him to THRUSH.

He shivered uncontrollably and wrapped himself into a tighter ball.  They’d only let him come out of the drug once before, he suspected, at the changing of the guards which had resulted a momentary breakdown in communications.  If he could just get to his feet…  If he could only get to the door…

The cell was deceptively big, although Napoleon’s corner of it was very small.  Much of it stayed in shadows while the cot had a light beating down on it.  He’d tried to hide in the darkness, but it was impossible.  They merely found him and dragged him back.  Now he didn’t even try, not that he had the strength or the will to.

There was a noise at the cell door and Napoleon shut his eyes even tighter.  He tried to still his body, making them think he was still drugged and asleep.  Perhaps this time they would leave him alone.

“Okay, Solo, rise and shine.  It’s time for a pick me up.” 

“Please…” Napoleon whispered through his chattering teeth.  “Don’t…”

“Naw, can’t have that, although I never thought I’d hear Napoleon Solo begging for mercy.”

“He wasn’t begging.”

Napoleon’s eyes opened and a sense of peace descended over him at the sound of Illya’s voice as his eyes drifted shut again.  There was the briefest sound of a scuffle and Napoleon felt a familiar hand on his arm.

“Napoleon?”

“About time…”  Napoleon tried to make the comment sarcastic, but it came out just sounding like a pitiful whine.

“Sorry, you’re a hard man to find.”  Illya helped him sit up, then went to the unconscious guard.  He took the syringe planned for Napoleon and emptied the contents into a small vial.  “What have they given you?”  He tucked the vial into a pocket and dropped the hypo by Napoleon’s cot, well out of reach of the THRUSH, just in case he woke up prematurely. 

“Don’t know.  Something new.  Knocks all your free will from you.”  Napoleon let Illya do most of the work.   “What’s the plan?”  At Illya’s silence, Napoleon continued.  “You do have a plan, don’t you?”

“Sure.  It was to find you.  After that, everything is sort of up in the air.”  Illya pulled out his communicator, clicked it on and off twice and then tucked it back away.

“Not working?”

“Not using.  We need to get you on your feet if we are going to escape.”

“Oh thanks, I never would have figured that part out for myself.”  Napoleon got up and swayed in place.

“You look like a colt, all legs and determination.”  Illya steadied him.  There was a noise in the hall and he looked at Napoleon.  “Looks a like a change in the plan that wasn’t.  I’ll be back.” He pushed Napoleon back down on the cot.  “Act like you just sat through a three-hour budget meeting.”

He disappeared into the shadows just as two guards appeared. 

“The signal came from around here.”

“Hey, Glen!”  The second guard fell to his knees.  He tried the rouse the unconscious man as the first guard went to Napoleon.  The chills had passed and Napoleon felt clear minded for the first time in days, but he never let it get to his eyes.

“At least he managed to administer the shot before he was ambushed.”   The guard poked Napoleon with the tip of his rifle.  “Hey, Twinkle Toes, her Majesty wants you.  Seems there’s a rumor going around that your little friend is attempting a rescue.”

Napoleon knew better than to react.  The command had to be succinct.

“Ricky, boy,  remember what the doctor said.”  He dropped the unconscious THRUSH back to the ground.  “Solo, get up.”  With an effort, Napoleon got to his feet and stood, swaying in place.  “See?”

Rick shook his head.  “I have got to get some of that for my Old Lady.  A dose in her champagne cocktail and she’d be my slave for life.”

“Loser.  And it only works if you inject it.  You are such a waste of space.  Follow me, Solo.”  He turned and was unconscious before he had a chance to take another step.  It took Napoleon a bit more time than usual to knock his guard out, but he had been under the influence of a drug for some time.  He wasn’t at the top of his form.  Still, Illya stood by and let Napoleon finish the job.

“Now what?”

Illya knelt to strip off one of the guards.  “We go for the Queen Bee.”  He pulled on the jumpsuit over his clothes and settled the cap on his head, taking care to hide his blond hair.  “Do you know where you are going?”

“To Hell in a handbasket?” Napoleon asked, coughing and shaking his head.

“Are you going to be able to do this?”

“Guess we will find out.”

                                                                                ****

Bennet glanced up from the table as the door opened and the guard stepped aside to let Solo enter.  She gestured to her hand maidens.  “Leave me with my dark knight.”  They walked woodenly out of the room, as much a victim of Bennet’s mind-controlling drug as Solo

He moved to her and again knelt.  “Mi Lady.” 

She sighed.  “This is getting tiresome.  Mr. Solo, how is it you can manage to grovel at my feet and yet not remember the security codes for UNCLE HQ?”

“Mary had a little lamb on Old MacDonald’s Farm,” Napoleon said, rising.

“Insane.  Guard, I want more wine!”

The guard came forward and removed the gold tray, carrying it to a side table where a decanter of wine stood.  He carefully poured the wine into the glass and carried it to her table.  When he turned back, Bennet was pointing a gun at him.

“Hello, Mr. Kuryakin.  Do you honestly think you could just waltz in here?”

“Waltzing isn’t my strongest suit.  I’m much better at a tango.”  Illya pulled off the cap and she gestured him aside.

“Sadly, your tango days are behind you.  Mr. Solo, kill Mr. Kuryakin.”  She held out a pistol and Napoleon reached for it, but then she snatched her hand back.  “No, just a moment, please.”  She lifted the glass in a salute.  “I drink to you, Mr. Kuryakin.  You will know what it’s like to dance with the devil.”  She drank the wine and set the glass down.  “Now, Mr. Solo.”

Then she stopped and blinked.  With a trembling hand, she braced herself on the table top.  She stumbled as she tried for a step.  “What have you done to me?”

Illya held up the empty vial.  “I never did hear what happens when you ingest it directly.  You tell me.”

Solo grabbed the pistol and joined Illya on the other side of the room.  Bennet stumbled and fell to her knees, gasping as her throat began to close.  She wheezed and coughed and then collapsed.

                                                                               

                                                                                ***

Napoleon looked up from the hospital bed as Illya entered.  He tossed Napoleon a bundle and grinned.

“Get out of bed, you slacker.  I’m tired of doing all the paperwork.”

“I’m free?”  Napoleon took all of three seconds to toss the sheets aside and grab the clothes.

“Conditional release.  The physicians still aren’t happy with your electrolytes, so you are released into my tender loving care.”

“That’s scary.”  Napoleon glanced at the bathroom door.  “Do I have time for a shower?”

“If you are fast about it.  I have a table for two at Luchow’s and they are not likely to hold a no show reservation.”

Napoleon paused, then.  “Illya?”

“Yes?”

“What killed Bennet Godsend?  Was the stuff that deadly?  Are any of my organs going to suddenly combust?”

“Your internal organs are fine, Napoleon.  The serum that they were injecting you with was made from an excretion of shellfish.  The good doctor had a severe allergy to them and the drug actually began to reform her internal organs into something akin to that of clam.  The drug would have given a non-allergic person  a stomach ache and not much more, but because of her allergy, she went into anaphylactic shock.”  Illya shrugged.  “Shocking, I know.”

“Oh, Illya… don’t give up your day job.”  Napoleon disappeared into the bathroom to try and spare himself from the sarcastic response.   It didn’t work…

“I guess in the end, she was just really shellfish.”


End file.
